Bedtime Stories
by ItalianDancer1275
Summary: The Winchester arguing was at an all time high and it was driving you insane. When they finally catch a case and you're left to your own devices, you decide to catch one of your own!
1. Silence is Golden

Silence is Golden

The past two days had been hell. Okay, not really hell, like where Dean was headed, but pretty damn close. Bobby had miraculously gotten the colt to work with the help of some hunt-with-me-Barbie, whose identity, by the way, was still unknown. It was mildly irritating, but you were woman enough to leave it alone. Not your business. The point was the weapon was working. This seemed to spark yet another debate between the brothers as the issue of when (and IF) to strike was brought up. The arguing was constant. Honestly, you and Bobby couldn't wait for them to leave. Nothing personal, but both boys were on edge and listening to the same fight over and over again was getting unbearable. There even came a point where you had to step out and shoot a few squirrels with Bobby. While he enjoyed your company, he made it clear that it was to be a solitary activity. _Well then…_ When you walked in, back screen door slamming shut behind you, the best image you could've asked for was the green duffel bag waiting next to the front door.

You heard thuds as you looked to your left to see Sam stomping down the stairs with a bag of his own. He seemed pretty pissed off. You coughed slightly, gaining his attention and getting him out of his own headspace. "Oh, hey Y/N. Sorry didn't see you."

"No worries."

"We uh, caught a case."

"I can see that." You looked to the bag Sam had strewn over his shoulder. "Of course. Right. Profiler." You shrugged. Or you just had eyes? This conversation seemed to have timed itself out. Right, time for your exit. "Have fun." Sam reached the bottom of the steps and looked up at you. "I, uh, guess I'll see you later then." You turned and gave him your famous two-finger salute. You made your way upstairs to find Dean coming out of the closet, his blue jacket halfway on. He had a mood much like Sam's. You were so close to slipping passed him into your room, but he closed the closet just in time to see you directly in front of him. "Hey. Got a case."

"Yea, Sam told me."

"Great. See you in a few days." And with that, he walked off and down the stairs. You found that to be a major difference between the brothers. Sam always tried to play off his negative emotions whereas Dean had no issue letting the world know he was angry.

You heard subtle voices and a slamming door, assuming the guys had said their goodbye to Bobby and finally left. You practically fell on your bed and let out a sigh. _Finally some quiet._ You laid there staring at your ceiling for at least twenty minutes, your eyes dangerously close to submitting into sleep.

"BALLS!" you heard the familiar yell from downstairs. You shot your eyes open and took a whiff. Bobby was cooking again. It didn't come naturally to him, like everything else on earth did. You sighed and stood, making your way out of your room and down the stairs.

Turns out he really hadn't screwed up that bad, just burned the pork chops a bit. Nothing that couldn't be cut off and salvaged. If you were being honest, they actually turned out pretty damn good. The two of you finished the meal without a word. There was a silent agreement that enough noise had been made in the house in the past two days. But that was the great thing about your relationship with Bobby. Silences were never awkward. After you two finished, you washed the dishes. Lord knows Bobby wasn't about to. You spent a half hour doing them by and, as Bobby had promised to fix the dishwasher tomorrow. "Just another thing to add to the list." You finished and sat at the table with what was left of your beer.

Wow.

This was the first time you had nothing to do in a while. It was a new feeling. And if you were being honest, you didn't quite enjoy it. Dear god…you were actually bored…


	2. Establishing Connections

Establishing Connections

You slept like a baby that night considering you went to bed early. Waking up refreshed, you decided that you were in desperate need for a hunt. You sent out some feelers to a few contacts, but when even Charlie had nothing on his radar, it was time to find something yourself. You spent the night on your laptop searching for weird accidents or deaths throughout the United States. The only thing slightly resembling anything interesting was a string of reports in Walla Walla, Washington (Yes. A real city) depicting several missing persons. Could just be your run of the mill serial killer, but hey, you had the time and resources to investigate. Why not? You packed your duffel and set it next to the front door before your departure the next morning.

Seven a.m. rolled around and you were itching to leave. You always got this feeling before starting a new case. It was like a clean slate. You showered quickly and wolfed down a protein bar before meeting Bobby in the living room. "Hey, so I found something in Washington I'm gonna check out. Be back in a few days, but I'll check in." Bobby grunted in response, still partially asleep with his coffee mug in hand. "You be safe, ya hear? Call if you need anything." You nodded and again gave your salute as you laced your boots, grabbed your bag, and headed out to the Jeep.

It had rained last night, but luckily the tarp was up, making your life easier. You threw your bag in the back and went to the rear of the car. You opened the small hidden compartment in the center of the spare tire and typed in the passcode. Hearing the beep, you reached and pulled the whole thing open, revealing your weapons cabinet. You added a few magazines and checked their ammunition levels before slamming the tire shut again to conceal the weapons. You stepped up to the driver's seat and started your ignition. Breathing in the morning fumes, you rolled your window down and hit the road.

The drive really wasn't awful. The trip could be done in a day, but it was a safer bet for your mental acuity to split it into two and get some more rest. You checked in with Bobby once a day and finally arrived in Walla Walla.

First thing was first; you needed a base of operation. Luckily, you had done your research the night before. The Capri motel was only a five-minute drive from the local police station. You arrived and checked in quickly. Walking through the door, bag in hand, you inhaled slowly and decompressed. Not only was it nice to be out of the car, but also having a room all to yourself with no male presence was the breath of fresh air that you needed. You always were more comfortable in isolation. You placed your bag next to the bed and quickly readied yourself for your next task; infiltrating the local police for information. The classic fed ruse would do just fine for this.

You arrived up the road and entered the station with an air of authority. A young man (clearly an intern) looked extremely flustered as he did his best to greet you. He was trying to carry several stacks of paper to the front desk when he noticed you, dropping a few stragglers. "Hi, can I help you?" You bent down to help him pick a few up and placed them on the wooden counter. Pulling out your "badge", you held it up before responding. "Just let your superiors know I'm here when you get a chance." Realization registered on the kid's face and he tensed a bit. "Oh, uh, yes ma'am, right away." He scurried off into the back and you took the time to look over some of the paperwork that he had left in the open. There were a few 'Missing' posters as well as several witness reports. Just as you were getting to the names, the man walked back out with his boss, a tall gentleman with a kind smile. He extended his hand. "Agent. Sorry I hope I didn't keep you waiting long. I'm Sheriff Jones and you've already met our newest addition, this is Jonathon Wright." You shook his hand in reciprocation before answering. "Not at all, just walked in, in fact. Nice to meet you both, I'm Agent Johnson." He gestured towards the small room in the back of the building. "Please." You nodded and lead the way to his office, taking the first seat you encountered. He sat behind his desk and leaned back in his chair, hands folded over what was a slight beer gut. You smiled slightly, as it was a position most middle aged men preferred while sitting. "What can I do ya for agent? Hope nothing's too wrong, we don't normally get visits from higher ups." His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and his fingers fidgeted, indicating that he was a bit nervous. "I assure you it's nothing to worry about. Just a routine check my boss sent me on. We've caught a whiff of your recent string of missing persons. Had a similar incident in D.C., just wanted to double check that the unsub didn't cross county lines."

"Well, if that's all you're here for, I can breath easy. Give me a minute and I'll give you everything we've got on the case."

"Thank you for your cooperation."

"Of course. (He pressed a button on his phone) Hey Jonathon, can you bring me those files on the missing persons?" You heard a faint "Yes sir", and some shuffling come from the other room. "We'll have those right out for you. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Not currently, but I will let you know if there is. Just keep me posted?"

"You got it. Thanks for coming in." He extended his hand once more and you shook it as a goodbye. You exited the office to meet Jonathon at the front. He stood with a wide smile, extending his grip with the files ready. You took them with a "Thank you." He smiled wider and nodded. "Anytime ma'am." You smiled back awkwardly and made your way out of the building and back to your car. _Well, that was certainly easier than you expected._ You started your ignition and made your way back to your room. Time to start piecing things together. You always did have a thing for the murder wall creation process. Just the idea of the organization gave you warm feelings.


	3. Mr Roger's Parking Lot

Mr. Roger's Parking Lot

Turns out there were four missing persons in Walla Walla at the moment. Commonalities included gender, but they seemed to stop there. There were varying ages, races, incomes, etc.…it seemed they were only targeted for being men period, which did not narrow down the search whatsoever. Your wall had come together beautifully, perfectly hidden behind a rack of flannels, tank tops, and a single dress in your closet (a trick Bobby had passed down). You figured the grunt work had been played out and now it was time to move into the field. You double checked the file of the first victim and decided on visiting the last known location; the Country Store Consignment

Entering the building, you were greeted by a kind old man with a little potbelly protruding from his brown knit sweater. "Well hello there miss, my name is Scott Brenerman, how can we help you today?" You smiled before pulling out your badge again. "Hi there, my name is Agent Johnson. I assure you that there is no trouble, just wondering if I can get a look at your security tapes as this was the last known location of Howard Lader."

"Of course ma'am, but I feel I should warn you, the police already did a complete sweep of the place and the tapes and couldn't find a thing."

"I'm sure they were very thorough, but I'm trained to look for certain subtleties that local law enforcement may not see as red flags. I assure you, this is just to cross off some paperwork."

"Of course. If you will just follow me behind the counter here, let's see if I can get that footage for ya." You nodded and followed behind Scott. He took you to a security system that looked like it was from the nineties. Scrolling through each day's footage, it took Scott a while to find the specific one you were looking for. Finally arriving at the correct file, Scott double clicked it and a loading bar appeared. "I feel I must apologize Agent, our gear here isn't the most high tech and this may take a while. Can I interest you in a coffee?" Who was this guy, Mr. Rogers? "Not at all Mr. Brenerman. Patience is in my job description. A coffee would be lovely." He smiled and nodded as he left the room. The bar was at 28% at the moment. This really was going to take a while.

A few moments later, you heard _Thunderstruck_ begin to play and reached in your back pocket to answer your phone. It was an unfamiliar number, but that wasn't uncommon in the hunting community. You greeted the mystery caller who replied, "Yes, hello Agent Johnson, this is Sheriff Jones. There's been a recent development in our case and I really think you oughta come check this out. Meet me in Downtown Walla Walla, I'll leave your name with the perimeter officers." You agreed and hung up the phone. Perimeter officers were never a good sign. You checked the loading bar once more and it was at 36% now. Thinking fast, you pulled a flash drive out of your jacket and plugged it into the machine, dragging the file with it. It loaded onto the drive in seconds.

Scott returned with two mugs. "My apologies Mr. Brenerman just got a call that I need to take. Thank you for your cooperation and hospitality."

"Well, two cups of Joe never hurt anyone I guess. Thanks for stopping by agent." You nodded and exited the building. Walking to your car, you nearly tripped on the small pile of rocks two spots down from your Jeep. Damn old asphalt. Wait… those pebbles weren't asphalt. You bent down to get a closer look. The rocks were clearly a lighter gray with a different consistency. They seemed to almost glow against the skin of your hand. Knowing you had other obligations; you simply pocketed a sample and made the rest of your way to your Jeep.

You arrived downtown and parked your car right next to the area that the police tape surrounded. A disgruntled officer began walking your way, preparing his chastisement of the dumb ass civilian who wanted to see what the fuss was about. Without a word you simply whipped out your badge and the officer understood immediately. "Right this way ma'am." You followed the man up the steps and caught sight of Sheriff Jones. You didn't see any blood or bodies, so that was a good sign. "What seems to be the commotion Sheriff?"

"I think I'd better show you." That raised your suspicions. You were lead inside a storybook looking building to where a group of law enforcement surrounded a single statue.

 _Hold up._

You took a closer look and your eyes widened. Okay, this was a new one. Upon further examination of the face, you saw that it was a perfect replica statue of Howard Lader. Almost too perfect… The sheriff nudged you out of your thoughts. "What kind of psychopath kidnaps a man and then models a statue after him. There are some sick people in this world." You caught only the first part of his statement, as something didn't quite add up. Given the time table of the initial kidnapping and the appearance of the statue, there was no possible way the assailant had the time to sculpt this essentially flawless rendition of Mr. Lader. That suggested two things; either the psychopath had a partner, or it was something else supernatural entirely. Regardless, this was the signature and your interest was piqued. You stepped in for a closer look. The detail on the sculpture was impeccable, down to the tiny raised bumps where Howard had arm freckles. You stroked the chin of the statue, amazed that the artist even captured the scratchiness of his stubble. The feeling of the rock gave you a sort of sensory familiarity however, and you immediately had an idea. Pulling out the small pebble you had taken from the store parking lot, you held it to the face of the Howard statue. The moment you pressed your sample against the sculpture, the entire thing started to glow…


	4. Small Victories

Small Victories

You had vacated the scene, taking multiple pictures and gathering as much data as possible to analyze that night. Shutting your motel room door behind you, you grabbed a beer and set to accomplish the first task of the night, which was to finally review that security footage. You were almost grateful that you hadn't yet, as this new set of information with the rock substance gave you a focus to view the video with. You plugged the drive into your laptop, hit play, and fast-forwarded until Howard entered the store. You also spotted Jonathon, from the police station. Howard accidentally bumped into him and Jonathon raised his arms in apology. A submissive personality. You made a mental note to interview him the next day. Nothing unusual screamed out at you, as Howard made small conversation with Scott and finished his purchase. A blonde woman entered the store and began to look around. Howard exited the store and she looked after him…perhaps just a millisecond too long. You zoomed in and screen shotted her face to run through the databases. _Hmm…nothing_. That only meant she hadn't been caught before. You redirected your attention back to the video and played the rest. Within two minutes of Howard exiting, she followed, not having bought a single item. Suspicious, but not concrete. The real question was whether she was part of the criminal duo, or if she was some sort of monster. Her eyes didn't give off the typical shapeshifter glare, so that was ruled out immediately. Before going further down that rabbit hole, you decided it was best to get a bit of shuteye. Tomorrow you would find out who she was and whether it was your kind of job. Though catching a couple of human killers did intrigue you.

You woke up in a fog. You couldn't remember the last time you slept so well. There was no arguing from the Winchesters and no pacing from Bobby, just silence and peace. You really could get used to it, but first things first. Your first interview of the day was going back to Scott's shop. He hadn't made contact with the blonde woman other than to greet her, but maybe he remembered a certain detail that the cameras just didn't pick up. Or perhaps, the universe would reward you and he actually knew who she was! _Doubt it._ Didn't hurt to ask though, right?

You again drove the beaten road to the store, almost a bit satisfied to see the cheery smile of Mr. Brenerman. "Two days in a row, well aren't I a lucky geyser." You exhaled and smiled in response. "Well, I felt bad leaving you with two cups of coffee, figured I owed you a mug." His smile was genuine and you could tell he was glad to have the company. Poor guy. He returned moments later with two mugs in hand and that smile still pasted on his face. "Don't tell my wife, but I'm just a bit too lazy to get the coasters out at the moment." You smiled. "You're secret is safe with me." He led you to a stained wooden table and you took a seat across from him. "So I have to be honest, I may have ulterior motives for my visit."

"Well, after the twenty minutes I talked to ya yesterday, I figured it wasn't for the coffee."

"Fair enough, although I did catch something on the tapes and was wondering if you had any information on this woman?" You pulled out the blown up screenshot you had taken of her face and slid the paper across the table. Scott pulled out his glasses and examined the picture further. "I do remember this young woman. While I can't give ya a name, I do recall thinking she was some sort of shoplifter. We always get at least one during tourist season. I was about to go confront her when she left my shop empty handed. Puzzled the hell outa me, excuse my language." You nodded along with his story. So she wasn't a local. You figured that was really all the information Scott had, but you stayed for about a half hour after to finish the coffee and have the good conversation that you promised. It may seem out of character, but you always had a soft spot for friendly old men.

You said your goodbyes and moved onto your next interview of the day; Jonathon. You stepped into the station to be greeted by an empty reception area. The Sheriff was probably busy and Jonathon was probably doing some grunt work. Out of habit you surveyed the room and caught a glance at the security cameras. Something was off. The normal dot of green light that indicated the process of recording was missing. Someone had turned off the security cameras. Or they were currently busted, but in your gut, you knew this minute detail was relevant. You stashed it in the back of your mind as Jonathon entered the room. "Agent Johnson! What are you doing back here?" You had clearly caught the man off guard. "Well, after reviewing some security footage, some new information has shifted the focus of this case. Do you think the sheriff would mind if I ask you a few questions?" Jonathon's eyes darted to the office door and he began to rub his hands on his pants. Sweaty palms. The real issue was whether this was from guilt or general anxiety. "Well, see we kind of had a disagreement earlier. I'm willing to answer your questions, but let's just stay out of his hair if you don't mind."

"If you insist." Jonathon nodded sheepishly and you led the way to one of the interrogation rooms. The two of you sat across from each other and he refused to make eye contact. "Jonathon, it's okay. I'm not here to bite. I just need you to describe your last meeting with Mr. Lader. I saw that you bumped into him on the day of his disappearance. Did he seem scared? Or different in any way? The smallest detail can help." You had to disarm him, he wasn't going to talk if he thought he was under a microscope. "Honestly, he didn't seem any different. We didn't talk much. Bumped into each other and then left. This is confidential right?"

"Of course, simply for the investigation. It won't even make it to the paperwork. Now, this woman was there that day as well, do you recognize her?" You took out the picture again and handed it to him. His lips quirked slightly to the right, an indication that he found the woman attractive. It could also be a sign of familiarity. You really hated grey areas. "I'm sorry, I don't recognize her. I wish I could be more help, but…"

"You're doing fine Jonathon. That's all I had. Thanks for your time. Hopefully you can fix things with the Sheriff." _Slam!_ The Sheriff busted open the door."Well, you don't do it by sitting around and not doing your job. My apologies agent, Jon here has been neglecting his responsibilities and now he's making you do the same. This isn't gossip hour son." Jonathon tucked his head and practically ran out of the room back to the reception center. "Really, Sheriff, this was my fault. I wanted to ask him a few questions. I apologize if I kept him from his work."

"That's unfortunate. He'll get over it. I'm sorry if I came off harsh, this case has really taken me for a ride. The whole office is stressed and I guess we're just taking it out on the intern."

"I completely understand. Do you mind if I ask what exactly you meant by 'neglecting his responsibilities'?" The Sheriff tilted his head in confusion. "Boy's been distracted lately. Taking too many and too long of breaks. I can't tell you how many reports have been sent to voicemail this past week."

"Kids these days. Well, thanks again Sheriff. I hope you can work things out." He nodded and led you to the exit door. You had one more stop to make before turning in for the day to reassess the case.

You double-checked the file that now laid residence on the front seat of your Jeep. You confirmed the address and made your way to the last known location of the third victim, as the second and forth had unconfirmed timetables of their disappearances. It was beginning to get dark out which provided a nice cover to pull up behind the C grade restaurant that the address matched. There was a witness report in this file stating that James Reicht was last seen lecturing the busboy for smoking a joint in the alley way. Reicht was apparently the town librarian, a father figure to many of the local youths. At least that's what the character report stated. You stepped out of the Jeep and felt a few shards of glass crack under the heel of your boot. Right, what's a skeevy alley way without a few broken beer bottles? You carefully watched your step as you approached the dumpster where the conversation went down. Inspecting it at face value, nothing looked out of place, except the small pile of pebbles that lay underneath the right corner of the metal disposal, giving off a faint glow. There was no doubt in your mind that they would be the same substance found in Howard's statue and Scott's parking lot. You smiled a bit. The victims were officially connected and you had a lead, a small victory.

Again, _Thunderstruck_ began to play and you answered your phone. The Sheriff, yet again, answered your greeting. "Agent, listen I know you were just down here but I'm gonna have to ask you to come down to our analytics building."

"Let me guess, something new throw you for a loop?"

"Am I getting that predictable?"

"Unfortunately yes, but in this case, every abnormality is evidence getting us closer to solving this thing."

"Great. See you down here soon." You clicked your phone off and again pocketed a sample of the rocks. Onto the analytics building…

Well, you could honestly say you weren't expecting this. Sheriff Jones had left by the time you arrived, but the doctor stayed to explain her findings. They had taken a small sample off of the statue and thoroughly examined it only to find small segments of Howard's DNA embedded in the rock. The woman could not find a single explanation for the discovery. Even you were a bit stumped. Normally you had a list for these situations; werewolves were wild animals, ghouls were grave robbers…etc. While it was clear that this was a supernatural happening, you had no idea which one or what explanation to give, but you had a hunch. "Mind if I perform a test of my own? I may have a theory." The doctor nodded and left you to do your thing. You took the latest sample from the dumpster and placed it under the microscope. Just as you suspected, tiny bits of DNA showcased within the stone. You didn't even need the blood comparison to know that this was James Reicht…These men weren't used as models for stone sculptures…these men _were_ stone sculptures.


	5. Planting Your Flag

Planting Your Flag

"Alright, thanks Bobby." You clicked your phone off and sat on the bed. Bobby had discussed it with you a bit before you needed to turn in for the night and there were several theories that were plausible. Once you were satisfied that you had really exhausted all angles, you were content to sleep and marinate in it. You don't even remember your head hitting the pillow before falling asleep. Guess the constant arguing between the Winchesters had really taken a toll on your sleep debt.

You awoke to the buzzing of your phone. The last ring sounded as you finally reached over to pick it up. Three missed calls from Bobby. That can't be good. You hit redial immediately and Bobby picked up on the second call tone. "Where the hell have you been? I been tryin' to call ya for the past half hour."

"Its called sleep Bobby. People who aren't robots tend to need it in order to function. Now get to the point of why three calls were necessary."

"Don't be smart with me, you asked for _my_ help. Now, near as I can tell, you got yourself a gorgon to deal with."

"A gorgon? Bobby, there's literally never been a single sighting. The thought crossed my mind immediately, but don't you think we would've heard about one by now if they were out there?"

"Yea, we just did. Congratulations you're the first. I'll put the word out to other hunters." With that, Bobby hung up. You didn't actually believe Bobby was angry with you, efficiency was your shared language. However, now you were left alone with your thoughts. True, a gorgon was the only possibility that had no plot holes, but you were still resistant. Why hadn't anyone seen one until now and why in the hell would one just appear in some storybook town in Washington? It was a lot to digest, but if Bobby seemed sure and there was enough evidence to back him up, you'd go with the theory. It also helped that your gut was screaming in support, and it was usually right about these things. Right, time to make a game plan.

Then again, it was four a.m. Back to bed it was.

Six thirty rolled around and you finally left for the station. In the parking lot, you spotted two cars; the Sheriff's Volkswagen and a beat up Honda. Jonathon. You slowly opened the glass paned doors to yet another empty reception desk. Although this time was different. Every nerve ending was on edge and telling you that something was wrong. Your hand wrapped around your gun protruding from the back of your jeans. You stealthily made your way towards the door leading to the evidence lockup as well as the basement. It was open ajar. You used your gun to push the door open just enough to slip through. You heard vague voices coming from the basement on the left. You tiptoed down the stairs, careful to avoid the weaker points of the wood. Before you even had time to snoop further, the sheriff burst out of the basement door and into evidence. Not a second later, the blonde woman caught on the security tape from earlier passed by in a blur, neither one having noticed the brunette hunter crouching on the stairs. You had to be smart about this. Based on the myths, only decapitation could ice the mythological bitch. Even that information wasn't concrete, as it had never been tested. Being the first to discover a new species really had its challenges.

You took the last stair to plant your feet on flat ground. You were just about to throw open the door when you heard rustling from the basement door behind you. Whatever was in there would have to wait, as the Sheriff yelling redirected your focus. You threw open the door and aimed your weapon. The woman turned to you and bared her teeth, exposing what really could only be described as a snake tongue. You made certain not to look into her eyes.

However, you may have just been forced to as the Sheriff did the stupidest thing he possibly could. He yelled. "Johnson! She's not human!" _Well clearly._ The gorgon's attention redirected to her original target and ran towards him. Without blinking, you fired several shots into a nearby chair, silencer equipped on your weapon. The back right leg of the metal furniture clattered to the ground after your direct hit. Picking it up, the gorgon was now facing and running towards you. Looking to the left, you swung at the right moment, taking her head clean off. The body froze, and very slowly began to sprout a new head. Several snakes popped out of what looked to be an embryonic sac. Nasty. The head emerged and let out an ear-piercing screech.

Dammit! Untested information was really inconvenient. The sheriff screamed in response and the monsters attention was again redirected. Time to get smart and crafty. You mentally stepped back from the situation and thought of a plan. It was another untested plan, but the only one you had. You quickly sifted through the files on the computer looking for the certain key word that could solve your predicament. Finally finding the category 'cocaine', you noted which locker to investigate and grabbed the skeleton key. The Sheriff let out a cry as the woman was approaching; dodging each item he threw at her. "Just don't look into her eyes!" you instructed as you ran to the label of 12A. Jamming the key into its hole, you rampaged through the contents of the locker until you hit your lucky break; a small hand mirror. You knew the cokeheads wouldn't let you down. Now it was time to get her attention. You again pulled out your gun and emptied your clip. The gorgon paused for a moment and then continued her path towards the Sheriff. What made her notice you before? You replayed the scene in your mind, coming to the conclusion that it must have been the audio cues. Thinking fast, you deposited your gun in your pants and began banging your fist on the locker. That got her attention as she quickly whipped around and bared her teeth again. You motioned your finger to your lips, warning the Sheriff to keep his mouth shut this time. He nodded in acknowledgement. The woman twitched her face, an indication that she was about to turn you into an artifact. Now was the time to strike. You saw just a hint of green in your peripheral vision and quickly raised the mirror. You heard a scream that would make your ears bleed followed by the sound of stone cracking. You waited a minute, just to be sure before looking up. Your plan had worked! Where the gorgon once stood, a statue that resembled her perfectly now laid residence, snakes and all. You exchanged glances with the Sheriff, just to check his well being before finally exhaling and leaning against the lockers.

"What have you done!?" You immediately raised your gun towards the door where Jonathon now stood, his hands in his hair. Man, should've followed your gut on that one. "Let me guess, you were the one that summoned the bitch in the first place?"

"B-But don't think I won't do it again! I still have all my herbs!" You rolled your eyes. "Jon, I have a gun. Who do you think is the quicker draw?" He looked down, clearly having overestimated the merit of his threat. True, your clip was empty, but he didn't know that. His damp hands began to shake. "Look, I don't generally shoot humans on purpose, and I really don't plan on making a habit out of it. Just tell me how you did it and maybe I'll leave you alive." He fidgeted with his hands for a moment. "You don't get it. Those people deserved it, all of them. You don't know what it's like being the town punching bag. And Howard's advice didn't work; standing up to them only made it worse! I just figured if they were gonna act like they had stone hearts, the outside should at least match." You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "So you're telling me, that because some douche bags hurt your feelings, you felt it necessary to summon a mythological creature and turn them to stone?"

"Um, yea…"

"Where did you even find the spell for that?"

"See that's the cool part. I didn't even have to find it! I met this guy at a bar, right. Creepy dude, way too into Halloween or something cause he wore red contacts. Anyway, he tells me he can solve all my problems; all I need to do is give him my soul. What a religious chump! So I agree and the dude hands me a paper including the ingredients and enchantment. Before I can say thank you, he grabs my face and attacks it, but I guess my reaction freaked him out cause he left right after, forgetting the paper completely! Cool right…right?"

"Wow Jon…congratulations you officially bought yourself a one-way ticket to hell."

"Hell? It's not even real!" You sighed and walked towards him. "Just like Gorgons, right?" You took two steps towards the door and turned your head in the direction of the two men. "Sheriff Jones, he's your prisoner." With that, you walked out, glass-paned doors swinging shut behind you.


	6. Plot Twists

Plot Twists

The two-day drive back to Sioux Falls really gave you time to think. Firstly, you had come to the conclusion that you only ever injured yourself on hunts when they involved the Winchesters (seriously, not even a scratch on you). Secondly, speaking of said brothers, you were beginning to think that demons seemed to have a hand in everything. Hell, you fought a friggin' gorgon and it was still somehow a demon's fault. Every road led to them, including the one Dean was currently on. It really made you analyze the difference between Jonathon and Dean. Yes, both men had been exceptionally stupid when making their deals, but you only felt pity for one of them. You chalked it up to one thing; reasoning. You were usually very big on believing that people who made their beds should lie in them too, but Dean's choice hit a nerve. His bed was made by putting someone he loved first, even before himself. He had ultimately earned your respect.

You finally arrived back at Bobby's and filled him in on the entire case. "Man, am I glad I took mythology as a gen ed." Bobby snickered at your quip. "Well, I'm sorry the olive branch didn't work out, but I'm glad you came back in one piece. A friggin' cocaine mirror…" He trailed off that last sentence, laughing and shaking his head to himself as he headed back out into the garage to fix up the car he had been working on. You smiled to yourself and collapsed on the couch, content to be back home. It was short-lasted however, as only a minute later; Bobby's cell began to ring. You heard him call from the garage, "Y/N/N, can you get that? It's probably Dean checking in after their case."

"Got it!" You yelled as you made your way to the disheveled desk and picked up the phone. Sure enough, it was Dean. "Hey, Bobby's a bit busy right now. How's it going?"

"Y/N/N? Don't you have a life outside of hunting with us? You should really get out more." You rolled your eyes and refused to acknowledge that dig with a response. "Or not… anyway, just calling to let you guys know we're headed home. You'll never guess the plot twist with this one!"

"Oh please, do tell…"

"Turns out step-mom poisoned the kid and she just wanted her dad to know the truth. Like Misha Barton."

"Who?"

" _The Sixth Sense_? You know she's the one who plays with the creepy puppets and ghost vomits everywhere? Catfishes her stepmom?"

"Wouldn't know, never saw it."

"Y-You never saw _The Sixth Sense_? Were you raised in a barn?!"

"As fascinating as this conversation is, I really have to go. I'll let Bobby know you guys are on your way back."

"No wait Y/N—" You hung up before he could finish. Your apparent lack of horror cinema knowledge was not something you wanted to waste time discussing at the moment. Why play operation at home when your job is a doctor? Bobby came back in finally, wiping the grease from his hands on a dishrag. "Turns out you were right, it was Dean. He just wanted to let you know he and Sam are on their way back." Bobby grunted in response. "Listen, I've had a long day of driving. I think I'm gonna turn in for the night. See you in the morning."

"Night." You nodded in response and headed upstairs to crash. You threw your bag on the nearest chair and laid back on the mattress you had become so accustomed to. There really was nothing like your own bed. You stared at the ceiling for a while before drifting to sleep for the night…or so you thought.

You were shaken gently awake and could faintly hear your name being whispered. You knew you weren't in danger; so raising your gun wasn't a priority. Monsters don't waste time to gently wake you up. Your eyes forced themselves open to see Dean standing over your bed. "Dean? What the hell are you doing?"

"C'mon, we're going downstairs."

"What? Why?"

"We're watching a movie."

"…No. Go to bed."

"Well, you haven't seen _The Sixth Sense_ , so whose fault is this really?" You simply glared in response. He sighed and grabbed your arm to gently lift you to an upright position. "C'mon!" You exhaled loudly as you threw the covers off and followed him out of the room. Is this what having a kid is like?

You planted your ass on the couch and tucked your knees into your chest. Dean already had the movie cued up and was walking back from the kitchen with two glasses and a bowl of popcorn ready. Man, he really planned this out. Feeling a slight chill, you grabbed the blanket that rested on the back of the couch and tucked your body under it. Not wearing a bra to bed was really working against you this particular night. Dean arrived back at the couch and placed the items on the coffee table. He sat and looked over at you. "Hogging all of the blanket? Girl discovers one species and suddenly the world revolves around her." He smiled slightly. You rolled your eyes and gave him half, still being sure to cover your chest. "Looks like Bobby filled you in."

"Guess you do have a life outside of us. But I'm about to make it better. See, all of M. Night Shyamalan's films have this plot twist…" You simply stared into the eyes of the man who was so incredibly excited to share his love for films. You weren't even registering what he was saying, partly from the fog of sleep, but also from your own thoughts intruding. This was a bad idea. Every nerve ending in your body was screaming to remind you that Dean was going to hell and to keep your distance. It was just logic. But all that ran through your mind was what a great friendship this might have been. And that hurt…


End file.
